Not To Hold
by ShadowMist
Summary: Sequel to How You Remind Me. Aya's POV.


**Author's notes 1:**  This is a sequel to How You Remind Me.  If you haven't read that yet then I suggest you do that first.  Don't worry, HYRM isn't very long.  ^_^  I wasn't really going to write a sequel to HYRM but after the response I got on it I decided I really needed to.  It just... took me a while.  :)  Sorry, I have warned you guys about how slow I write.

**Author's notes 2:**  This was going to be another songfic but I'm not quite sure what happened.  I HAVE included some lyrics here and there from the song I had meant to use but not the whole thing.  The song belongs to Madonna. 

**Dedication:**  This is for everyone who wrote me and told me how sad the first fic was.  For all of those who demanded revenge please make sure to read the note at the end of the fic.  ^_^   I can't say anymore without ruining the fic so, on we go.

Special thanks to my beta Dori and to Jamberry for all her wonderful help and suggestions.

Warning: Yaoi, limesh really, and angst.

Not To Hold 

**By ShadowMist******

Your hands are on me, creating a soft heat with their touch, a soft haze where I could so easily loose control.  Then I remember that we are still at the Koneko.

"Yohji, stop it."  I push the hands away before it became too much and I gave in.

"Ahh, come on, Aya.  No one can see us back here."  Those eyes, full of life and mischief distract me, unbalance me, make me want to just do anything you want... mesmerize me long enough that you get a chance to lay your hands on me again.  I shiver at their warmth and slap them away.  

"I said no."  I pick up the flowerpot I'd come back here for.  I can feel those verdant eyes on me still, their weight a too-welcome caress.  I fight back a shiver.  "And stop staring at me so much.  Ah, uhm... Ken and Omi are beginning to suspect."

I nearly snort at my own lie.  As if I would care what those two thought or saw but, I needed a plausible excuse.  Else, else, well, I'm not quite sure what I'd do.  What would you do if _I_ stared at _you_ with such hunger and warmth all the time?  

I turn around, pot in hand and see the anger in your eyes.  Did you know your eyes change color with your mood?  Most of the time they are a vibrant, dancing green; a green that reminds me of spring and birth and old things becoming new again.  When you're sad or tired your eyes become dull, opaque: the color of leaves at last admitting defeat to winter.  Ah, but the most beautiful green, the most commanding green is achieved only when you are mad.  Your eyes flash, the green switching back and forth between spring and winter, the specks of gold that one can't really see unless they're standing close to you flashing like the sun. 

I leave before I can give in, before you can change my mind.  You do that way too easily: make me change my mind, make me give in when I know I shouldn't.  After all, didn't I give in to you on this?  I knew I shouldn't have let you start this, this thing between us.  What is it exactly?  It can't be love, though at times it hurts so much I want to tear my heart out of my chest, but lovers... they talk, they know things about each other.  You've never asked anything about my past.  Granted, neither have I asked about yours but...  lovers should know.  Lovers should ask.  Lovers should want to know and want to ask.  Shouldn't they?  So, then, are we only having sex?  Is this thing between us nothing more than a convenient release of tension?  Should I tell you about Aya-chan?  Will you tell me about this Asuka that makes you cry out in your sleep?  I've never asked.  You've never volunteered.  

I make my way back to the table where I had been working at earlier and begin the new arrangement.  I know the minute you walk back into the shop.  I don't know how to describe it.  It's like a gentle warmth flushing over my skin each time you walk into the same room.  Or maybe its more like a touch along the back of  my neck.  I don't know.  Whatever it is, I always know when you're suddenly there, and I can't help it: I look up and meet your eyes.  They are dark with frustrated passion.  I hide a shiver and look quickly away again.  How can your simple look have so much power over me?

As the day progresses you seem to calm down.  At least, you are no longer throwing me your own version of my death glare.  Hmph.  Sorry to say, Yohji, but it needs work.  You could never beat me.  I hear a phone ring and look up.  It is not the Koneko's phone.  It is the house phone.  I frown, something in my stomach knotting unexpectedly.  Everyone knows the Koneko's hours.  They know that this is the day you and I are stuck tending to it alone while Omi and Ken are out.  I look up to make sure you aren't too swamped with customers.  You're so busy flirting with the single customer that I doubt you even heard the phone ring.  I shrug and make my way into the house.

"Hello."

"Aya?"

"Yes."

"Aya, this is Manx.  Aya..."

"Yes."

"Aya...  Ay-Ran."

Another long pause and the knot in my stomach becomes a threatening weight.  

"What do you want, Manx?"

"Ran... Aya-chan is dead."

"What?!?"  The knot is gone.  Now, now there is nothing.  

"I'm sorry, Ran.  She passed away an hour ago."

"Aya-chan."  I don't recognize my own voice.  It had never sounded so... calm, distant... dispassionate.  

"Ran, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Manx."

"Ran, we need to speak with you.  Kritiker-"  The rest of what she says is lost to me, drowned out by the laughter drifting in from the Koneko.  Omi and Ken are here.  Ready to take over for the afternoon.  I hang up the phone only vaguely aware that Manx was still talking.

You walk in the room, a big grin plastered on your face.

"The kids are here.  Lets get out of here before they can try and con us into staying for the afternoon rush."  I nod and reach for my coat.  You hold the garage door open for me, waiting on me.  We drove here today together because my car is in the shop, ruined in the last mission. 

I get into Seven in a daze, your voice familiar background noise as my mind spins in disjointed circles.  Aya-chan is dead.  Aya-chan is dead.  Dead.  Dead.  The word floats inside my head, refusing to sit still, to make sense.  Dead.  Dead.

We get home faster than I expected.  As soon as we step in the door I feel arms wrap around my waist and I'm pulled backwards.  Back into a strong, warm, living chest.  A chest that moves slowly up and down with each breath it takes.  For all of three seconds I let myself be held, let myself bask in the warmth of another human being.  

You nibble on my ear and press against my back suggestively and something inside of me snaps.  Aya-chan is dead.  Dead.  She will never be able to laugh or dance or run through the house in a panic because she overslept again.  Dead.  She will never tease me so much that I end up throwing books at her.  Dead.  She will never grow up and learn what it is to be held like this.  Dead.  Dead.  Never.  Dead.

I push away from your embrace.  

"Wha-Hey, we're home.  We're all alone.  The door is locked."

//"Ran, we need to speak with you.  Kritiker-"//  Kritiker will be here soon.  I need to get out before they arrive.  

"Aya-"

Aya?  'Aya is dead,' I want to yell suddenly.  Dead, dead, dead, dead.  Except, you don't know who Aya is.  I never told you.  You never asked.  We never got that far.  Would we have?  Someday?

"Not now.  I don't have time."  Aya is dead and time will never mean a thing to her ever again.  I quickly make my way into my room.   Outside the now locked door your voice rises in anger, your words bleeding though the door.  I pause to listen.  

"You cold-hearted bastard.  Stupid, frigid asshole!  See if I care."  

Then the sound of a door slamming.  The maelstrom that is my emotions pauses, stills, remains dead within me for one glorious second before it resumes with an even greater force than before, threatening to tear me apart from within.  I pull the suitcase from inside the closet and begin to throw things at it, not really caring what it is I am packing just so long as I can do it quickly and get out of here.  No time, no time.  Aya is dead and Kritiker is on its way.

It is nearly impossible to close the suitcase when I at last grow tired of throwing things into it.  I still have no idea what I placed in it and I find enough reason left within me to vaguely hope that at least some of the things inside are underwear and clean clothing but I can't find the strength to actually care.

I grab my katana and drag the suitcase out into the hallway.  I'd paused earlier and called a cab so it should be here any minute now.  Any minute now.  I lean my shoulder against the wall, feeling suddenly lightheaded.  'Any minute now.'  The phrase sounds strange in my head.  Minute.  Any minute.  One minute and the whole world changes.  One minute and the whole world crumbles to dust.

I reach for my coat and pull it on, a chill too deep for words overcoming me.  

"What's going on?"  I freeze when I hear your voice but I don't turn.  What color are your eyes now? 

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving where?"  Confusion in your voice.  I pull the coat closed and button it.  I'm cold.  So cold.  

"I'm leaving here.  I'm going away.  Weiss no longer has a hold on me."  My voice is still so calm, so even.  I take a moment to be proud that after all my years of struggling my voice at last has learned the trick of remaining monotone.  

"What?  How?  You can't."  

"I can and I am."  Without another word I pick up my katana and suitcase and open the door.  

"Wait, what about us?"  Us.  Us.  What were we, Yohji?  If I tell you that Aya is dead will you stare at me in confusion?  What were we?  

"It's over."  Over.  Yes.  That sounds right.  Over.  Whatever we had been, whatever we could have been, it doesn't matter.  Aya-chan is dead and Kritiker is on its way.

//To have and not to hold

So hot yet so cold

My heart is in your hand

And yet you never stand 

Close enough for me to have my way

To love but not to keep

To laugh not to weep

Your eyes they go right through

And yet you never do 

Anything to make me want to stay//

But I can't help the way my body pauses.  I stand, you behind me and the door open before me.  I stand.  Waiting?  I guess I am.  I guess here is further proof of how you have affected me.  I can't help it.  My body refuses to move.  Giving you a chance.  Waiting for you to do something, say something, make me do what I know I shouldn't do.  Again.  

But nothing comes.  I lower my head, hiding behind my bangs.  I hadn't expected a big scene; not really; but...  The taxi waiting outside honks.  I bend down and grab my things.  I turn to the door, then hesitate once more.  I await an eternity, giving you one more chance, one last chance.  You don't make a move and my dignity won't allow me to stand here any longer.  I walk out.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

//Like a moth to a flame//

There you are.  I knew you'd be here.  This is your favorite bar after all.  Do you even know my favorite haunts?  I doubt it.  

You are so drunk it doesn't take anything to get you out of there and into a room.  You cry my name so sweetly, so hungrily.  As if you've really missed me.  I can't help but plunge in, taking you as you've so often taken me.  You clutch at me, your arms holding me with the strength of your passion.  Why hadn't you held me like this before?  Why did you let me go?

I drive in harder, deeper, harsher.  Punishing you.  Punishing me.  You come with a cry.  My name again.  No, the name of a dead girl.  A girl you never knew. 

You fall asleep; the alcohol and sex too much for you.  I brush your hair away from your face and place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I love you."  I say it now, as I have before but you've never heard it.  

I get up and dress.  With one last lingering brush of your hair and a longing look I leave you.  But I don't go far.  I wait outside all night long.  I wait because I can't help it.  I need to guard over your sleep.  You're too drunk.  You'd make an easy target if one of our enemies happened along.  And... I can't help but long for one last glance.  

It's not until the chill of dawn that you at last come out.  I hide behind some conveniently parked cars.  I can't let you see me.  I know you'd try to make me come back but I can't.  Not, not when we were never anything.   

//To look but not to see

To kiss but never be

The object of your desire

I'm walking on a wire//

I watch the way the sun shines off your golden hair and a pang goes through my heart.  You walk away, never glancing across the street to where I stood vigil all night.  You take off down the sidewalk, stumbling slightly.  I watch until you take a corner and I can no longer see you.

//And there's no one at all 

To break my fall//

I bury my hands in my pocket and take off in the opposite direction.

Owari

**The promised note for those that wanted revenge:  **You guys made me feel so bad for poor Aya.  Everyone who wrote me comments on HYRM kept saying what a bastard Aya was in that fic and how you guys hoped I'd write a sequel where he got what he deserved but no one speculated as to WHY they thought Aya had suddenly decided to leave Weiss.  _I_ knew the whole reasoning for his attitude in HYRM but, since Yohji didn't, then I couldn't tell you guys either.  

Anyway, I hope this sequel has, if not redeemed my Aya of HYRM in some of your eyes, then at least explained the reasoning for the attitude.  If you guys still think Aya is a jerk please let me know because then, in that case, I have completely failed in what I set out to do.

Thanks and please do remember to send feedback.


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